Page 85 of What About Us
She points the butter knife at me. “I know how your pervy mind works, Huddy. Plus, you can’t keep your eyes off my rack.”
“It’s a great rack,” I say with a grin and a shrug.
She looks down with a frown, as if she’s looking for evidence of the fact. “You’ve never even seen them.”
“I know.” I pump my eyebrows up and down. “But I can use mypervyimagination.”
Her attention is back on the sandwiches and her voice is low and uncertain when she speaks again. “They’re kind of…nonexistent.”
I gape at the side of her head. I mean, sure, they’re on the smaller side, but perfect for a mouthful. “Trust me when I say, they exist.”
Her gaze flicks to mine and she blushes. “What do you imagine about them?”
Pausing my chopping, I find her gaze, then dart my eyes toward the living room, before bringing them back to her. Leaning in so only she can hear me, I drop my lips to the shell of her ear. “Well,” I start, and watch her shiver as the word rolls across her skin. “I’ve seen enough to know that they’re perky as fuck, with tight, little nipples that peak at the smallest bit of cool air.” I brush her braid off her shoulder and run my finger over her exposed collarbone.
I continue in a whisper. “I want to know what makes them ache and how they’d feel between my teeth and on my tongue. But mostly, I wonder what color they are and if they match what I know must be the sweetest, most perfectly tight cunt.”
“Holy shit,” she breathes out, her eyes slipping closed. “You can’t say stuff like that.”
My eyes widen in panic and I step back. “Fuck, sorry,” I mumble. “I thought—”
She meets my eyes quickly and shakes her head. Fisting a handful of my shirt, she pulls me back with a small smile. “No, sorry. Youcansay it, but just…” she trails off, tipping her head in Paige’s direction with wide eyes.
Relief floods me. “She can’t hear us.” I know my daughter well enough that a pipe bomb could go off next to the TV and she wouldn’t notice. Not when she’s so engrossed in her show.
“But still.” She licks her lips and ducks her head. “Plus, you’re gonna make me…wet. And you have a game in a bit. It’s not like we’ll have time to…you know.”
I love her all flustered, and knowing I’m making her wet? Fucking,fuck. That really turns me on. I’ve wanted this for so long—these stolen touches and sexy secret conversations. Normally, I’m a get in and get out kind of guy, especially since Tristen was never a very enthusiastic partner. But with Finn? I want to stretch this shit out, make her wait a bit. It might make me a cruel bastard, but edging her sounds like a whole fuck-ton of fun.
I glance in the direction of the living room, and then block her from view with my body as I turn back to face her. When I step close, she has to tip her head back to see my face.
My eyes drop to her lips, then I trail a finger over the bottom one. I tap my finger there. “Open.”
She lets out a shaky breath, and when she opens for me, I slide the same two fingers from last night past her lips. She immediately sucks them into her mouth, her eyes slipping closed with a quiet moan. I love the way her mouth stretches around them, and I cannot wait to see how much more they’ll stretch around my dick.
“You’re going to look so fucking filthy with my cock stuffed in your mouth,” I whisper against her ear.
She moans, sucking my fingers back as far as she can, until she gags a little.
“Fucking filthy,” I repeat and slip my fingers from her mouth, a string of saliva stretching from her lips to my fingers. She whimpers and her eyes drop to where those two fingers are headed. I circle them around the stiff peak of one of her nipples through her shirt.
Her hands fist in my shirt. “Do your nipples ache, pretty girl?” I whisper against her lips.
She nods and hums, sucking my bottom lip into her mouth. Her hand drops to the front of my pants to grip me through my shorts, palming my length.
“Huddy, I need to feel you—"
The familiar ringtone set for my ex-wife assaults my ears from across the room, followed by Paige’s excited, “Mommy’s calling!”
“Seriously?” Finn moans, and we break apart.
The tone of a FaceTime call connecting has me groaning as well.
“Hi, Mommy,” Paige says, her face breaking out in a huge grin. “You look so pretty!”
“Hi, Paigey,” Tristen says, in the syrupy sweet tone she uses with Paige. It grates on my nerves because it’s fake as hell. “Where’s your daddy?”
“Oh, he’s making sandwiches with Finnley,” she says brightly.
